Dance of the Dreams
by Jeff Wikstrom
Summary: Chip and Dale versus Cthulhu. Guest-starring Xia.


DANCE OF THE DREAMS  
(The Rescue Rangers vs. Cthulhu!)  
  
Jeff Wikstrom  
  
  
"In dreams, I walk with you.  
In dreams, I talk to you.  
In dreams, you're mine...  
All the time..."  
--Roy Orbison, "Candy-Colored Clown"  
  
  
  
  
He was falling, accelerating at a rate of thirty-two feet per   
  
second per second:   
  
g = 9.8 m s -2   
  
Theoretically, as a chipmunk, he had a pretty low terminal  
  
velocity, but he sure felt like he was falling faster and faster.   
  
  
This didn't bother him.   
  
  
He could see the ground come running up all eager to make   
  
friends. Even with his relatively low mass and velocity he still had  
  
enough momentum and kinetic energy to cause himself some serious  
  
problems:   
  
  
p chipmunk = m chipmunk * v falling   
  
E fall =(1/2)m chipmunk *(v falling )^2   
  
  
All in all, in a simple Newtonian system (and on this large scale  
  
the physical world behaved as if it were simple and Newtonian, once  
  
things like friction were accounted for by substituting in a terminal  
  
velocity for constant acceleration) he'd hit the ground very soon now:   
  
  
t until death = d to fall / v falling   
  
  
This didn't bother him, either.   
  
  
The reason the approaching ground didn't bother him was simple.   
  
Directly underneath him, Fat Cat stood, his jaws opened impossibly   
  
wide, the shining teeth circling a bottomless pit he was about to fall   
  
into.   
  
  
  
Dale woke up screaming. His first conscious thought was that the   
  
falling had been bad enough, without the physics. His second thought   
  
was that he wasn't supposed to be having nightmares. Chip had   
  
nightmares. Dale didn't wake up screaming. Chip woke up screaming, two   
  
or three times a week. Dale's sleep was generally only interrupted by   
  
Chip's screaming, not by Dale's own nightmares.   
  
  
Not by nature introspective, the chipmunk chalked his nightmare   
  
up to either random chance or too much bad television the night before.  
  
It didn't happen often, after all. He could count on one hand the   
  
number of times he'd had a bad nightmare in the past, oh, five years or   
  
so.   
  
  
Dale tried to wipe the last of the sleep away, and looked around.   
  
It was light out, which meant everyone else except for Foxy was   
  
probably up. Deciding he wasn't likely to go back to sleep anytime   
  
soon, he hopped out of bed and went looking for them. The clock said it   
  
was nine in the morning, so he tried the kitchen first. Dale wasn't   
  
sure where they would be, that early in the morning.  
  
  
"Good-morning, everybody," he said as he walked in. Chip, Gadget,   
  
Zipper, Monterey Jack, and Foxy were all seated around the breakfast   
  
table, looking glum. Dale scratched his head. It seemed strange. "Uh,   
  
guys?"   
  
  
"Yeah, good-morning, Dale," Chip said without looking at him.   
  
This was followed by a wave of similarly-impassive greetings, except   
  
for Foxy's usual "morning, cutie." And even that was... well, half-  
  
hearted wasn't the right word. Foxy used her full heart every time.   
  
"Distracted," maybe, was better.   
  
  
Dale shrugged and sat down, serving himself a generous helping of   
  
cheese chowder.   
  
  
"Monty, this cheese chowder is a little off," he said.   
  
  
Monterey Jack turned and looked at Dale as if seeing him for the   
  
first time. "Sorry, mate," he said. "I guess I'm having an off day.   
  
That kind of thing happens, sometimes."   
  
  
"Tell me about it," Gadget agreed. She stirred her lukewarm   
  
thimble of coffee as Foxy nodded, her lovely smile uncharacteristically   
  
absent.   
  
  
"Yeah," Chip said, his tone morbid. "Did you ever stop to think   
  
about what might happen if one of us, any of us, really screwed up big   
  
time on a Case? We put our lives on the line every day, and for what?"   
  
  
"Uh..." Dale looked his teammates - his friends - over carefully.   
  
Something seemed to have put a damper on their usually sunny   
  
dispositions. "Is something the matter?"   
  
  
Zipper tapped him on the shoulder, and showed him an index card   
  
on which the fly had written, in his very neat handwriting, 'The   
  
matter? What could possibly be the matter, in this cold, uncaring,   
  
expanding universe in which we are trapped until we die? Look at me,   
  
for instance, I'm an old man and what do I have to show for...' Zipper   
  
waited patiently at his elbow.   
  
  
Dale thought about this for a second. "You're not that old," he   
  
said. "Only what, ten?"   
  
  
Zipper produced from behind his back a second card: 'Don't   
  
interrupt me, you whipper-snapper! Ten is old for a fly!' Then, task   
  
completed, the fly turned his attention back to the spot on the table   
  
he had been staring at since Dale entered the room.   
  
  
"And so much is just so random," Foxglove suddenly said. "I mean,   
  
what are the chances that I was going to meet you guys? A minute either   
  
way, and it wouldn't have happened..." She sighed deeply.   
  
  
"Something's definitely the matter," Dale decided. "Chip?"   
  
  
"Yes, Dale?"   
  
  
"What's the matter?"   
  
  
"Nothing, Dale."   
  
  
"You weren't listening. I said something's definitely the   
  
matter."   
  
  
To Dale's bemusement, Chip responded by leaping to his feet.   
  
"That's it!" he said, his hollow voice filling with emotion. "The straw   
  
that broke my back! You're all witnesses!" he added to the assembled   
  
Rangers. "This time he's gone too far!"   
  
  
"Uh, Chip?" Dale was worried - this didn't sound like Chip.   
  
  
"Time to die, Dale! Time to die!"   
  
  
Dale shuddered as Chip advanced on him brandishing a knife. He   
  
stepped backwards, only to bump into someone. He spun around and saw it   
  
was Gadget's sister, Widget, smiling in a nightmare-inducing way and   
  
brandishing a .22 caliber Darned Nearly Recoilless Rifle.   
  
  
Dale woke up screaming. He felt chilly, and realized this was   
  
because he'd kicked off his covers during the nightmare.   
  
  
It was morning, so Dale - a bit more cautiously the second time   
  
around, got out of bed, dressed, and went into the kitchen.   
  
  
"Good morning, Dale!" Gadget greeted him.   
  
"Yeah, morning, Dale," Chip and Monty agreed, slightly out of   
  
sync. Zipper, too, buzzed a greeting.   
  
  
"Good morning, guys. Uh, is Foxy up yet?" Dale sat at one end of   
  
the table and rested his head against one hand. "I just had the   
  
weirdest dream..."   
  
  
"Who?" Chip asked him.   
  
  
"Huh? Foxy. Foxglove, you know, the bat." Dale was slightly   
  
confused, which was nothing new. He mimicked a flying mammal with his   
  
hands as best he could. "The trainee with the superhearing."   
  
  
"Foxglove... Foxglove... oh!" Gadget snapped her fingers. "I   
  
remember - that nice bat who helped us against that witch!"   
  
  
"I wonder whatever happened to her?" Chip mused. "What are you   
  
talking about, Dale? 'Trainee?'"   
  
  
"Is this some kind of sick joke?!" Bewildered, Dale scanned the   
  
faces of his friends but saw no deception. Dale's jaw went slack and he   
  
found he couldn't think straight. "This isn't funny! Where is she?!"   
  
  
"Dale," Monty said slowly, "Did you have some kind of dream?"   
  
  
"We don't know what you're talking about," Chip said.   
  
  
There was a pause while this sunk in.  
  
  
"I'd love to stay and help you deal with this, Dale," Gadget   
  
added. "But I've got rehearsal today."   
  
  
"Again?" Chip asked. Gadget ignored him.   
  
  
"Caprice should be here in just a few minutes, as a matter of   
  
fact." Gadget smiled to herself in a way Dale had never seen her smile,   
  
and left the room.   
  
  
"C'mon, Dale," Monterey Jack said. "Tell us about this dream-girl   
  
bat o' yours!"   
  
  
"Too good to be true, I'm sure..." said Chip.   
  
  
Dale shuddered at the thought. He shook so much he fell out of   
  
bed, and screamed as he fell past Chip, asleep on the lower bunk, onto   
  
the wooden floor of their bedroom.   
  
  
The noise, which an observer might have heard as a sort of faint   
  
whooshing sound combined with a high-pitched and much louder "Augh!"   
  
and immediately followed by the coconut-like hollow thumping of Dale's   
  
head hitting the floor, woke Chip instantly. He sat bolt upright in   
  
bed, and slammed his own ample forehead against the bottom of the upper   
  
bunk.   
  
  
"Owww..." the two chipmunks said, more or less simultaneously.   
  
Gradually Dale realized it had all been one long nightmare. He thanked   
  
the Activities Director of the cruise ship that was his life that he   
  
lived in a world in which there was both a Foxy and at least some joy,   
  
and laughter, and happiness. Zipper complaining about the universe   
  
expanding seemed especially harsh.   
  
  
"Dale...!" Chip rubbed his forehead with one hand while glaring   
  
down at his friend. The other hand was shaped into a fist.   
  
  
"You're not going to kill me, are you, Chip? And Foxglove, you   
  
know who Foxglove is, right?"   
  
  
"Wha... no, I... what, eh, what are you talking about?!" Chip   
  
lowered his fist, the natural impulse to bonk Dale on the head stymied.   
  
  
"I just had this really awful dream... there was physics and bad  
  
cheese chowder and Foxy was depressed and Zipper was mad 'cause the  
  
universe was expanding and then you were going to kill me and there was  
  
a lot of brandishing and THEN there was no Foxy and Gadget had an   
  
interest in the theater arts which served to balance her mechanical   
  
aptitude, and add complexity to her character and... um. No Foxy," he   
  
repeated, and shuddered.   
  
  
"Huh. Expanding universe, huh?" Chip stroked his chin. "I don't   
  
think I've ever had that one..." he muttered to himself. "Ahem. It's   
  
weird... I just had a bad dream, too."   
  
  
"Really?" Dale asked as he picked himself up and tried to decide   
  
whether he wanted to go back to bed or not. He felt pretty awake.   
  
  
"Eh, yeah. We were on a case that didn't make any sense, but no   
  
one else noticed, and everything was falling apart and... what time is   
  
it?"   
  
  
Dale glanced at the wristwatch fastened to the wall. "Almost   
  
eight."   
  
  
"Really? I've slept in! I guess there's a first time for   
  
everything. Come on, let's get to the kitchen!"   
  
  
"Uh..." Dale scratched his head. "I'm not sure I want to do   
  
that."   
  
  
"Why not, nuts-for-brains?" Chip asked. Dale decided to ignore   
  
the insult, since he'd been pretty well desensitized to them over the   
  
course of his life, and also because Chip hadn't had his coffee yet,   
  
and had missed what Dale knew was his favorite part of the day, but   
  
mostly out of habit.   
  
  
"The last two times I went into the kitchen, something bad   
  
happened," he explained.   
  
  
"Oh, that was just in your dream!"   
  
  
"I might still be dreaming! That's just the thing you'd say if   
  
you were a nightmare in disguise! You could be a dream-creature!" he   
  
accused.   
  
  
"Ooh!" Chip leaned over and bonked Dale on the head. "That felt   
  
real, right?!"   
  
  
"Yeah," Dale agreed sheepishly, and followed Chip down the   
  
hallway.  
  
  
  
"Good morning, Chip! I saw you were sleeping in..." Gadget beamed   
  
as the two chipmunks entered the kitchen (and repressed a sudden flash  
  
of desire to pat Chip on the shoulder or hug him or leap into his   
  
arms).  
  
  
Dale ignored her, and Monty, and Zipper, and rushed over to Foxy,   
  
who was sitting at the kitchen table. Wordlessly he gave her a   
  
tremendous hug, causing her to smile even more brightly than usual. "I   
  
  
  
am so happy to see you," he muttered a few second later. "You have no   
  
idea..."   
  
  
Gadget, always polite, turned so that she was facing away from   
  
the couple. She caught Chip's eye and watched him grow less tense.  
  
  
"Oh, Dale, I'm happy to see you too!" Foxy squeezed Dale against   
  
her.   
  
  
"But tell me," he continued, disengaging, "you are happy to be   
  
alive, right? Uh, everybody? Is anyone here trapped in a cold,   
  
uncaring, expanding universe? Or where the dead pity the living?   
  
Anybody?"   
  
  
Dale looked them all over, saw nothing but blank faces. "Thank   
  
God," he muttered.   
  
  
"Been talkin' to Widget?" Monty asked. It had been a few months   
  
since they'd last seen Widget and her family, at Christmastime, and   
  
some of them had taken a few days to completely recover. Dale paused,  
  
then shook his head no.  
  
  
"What brought that on?" Gadget asked.   
  
  
"Dale had a nightmare," Chip explained. "I did too, as a matter   
  
of fact."   
  
  
"Really?" Monty leaned back. "I 'ad a bad dream meself. Dreamt   
  
I'd gotten too outta shape to go out on cases, an' ya all replaced me,   
  
with this arrogant li'l pipsqueak mouse who wore a mack all the time."   
  
  
"Hmm. I dreamed there was some kind of crisis, gas underground in   
  
tunnels, and you all sacrificed yourselves to protect me," Gadget   
  
said. She cocked her head to one side in the manner Dale recognized as   
  
signaling she was Thinking with a capital T.   
  
  
"Wow, this is really creepy..." Foxy said. "I had a nightmare   
  
that Dale and I were getting married and," she paused for breath and   
  
was surprised to hear Dale's vital signs suddenly fluctuate wildly.   
  
"And then suddenly we broke it off because being a Rescue Ranger was   
  
too dangerous and... ugh. I don't like to think about it." She scowled   
  
and leaned back against Dale, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat   
  
and various internal fluids as it returned to normalcy.   
  
  
Zipper coughed, but said nothing. He had been severely unnerved   
  
by his own nightmare. In his dream, he'd flown to breakfast as he did   
  
every morning, but the other Rangers hadn't acknowledged him: Monty   
  
didn't give him a plate of food, Chip and Gadget were too busy with   
  
each other to even glance his way, and so on. He'd been buzzing   
  
around, trying to attract some attention, when Foxglove came into the   
  
kitchen and quick as a blink snatched him up. 'Yummy,' she'd said.   
  
'Anyone want some?' And then Chip had... Zipper winced at the memory,   
  
dream though it had been. Chip had told her to feel free to consume   
  
not just that fly, but "any vermin that wanders into the Tree."  
  
  
  
"Hello. I am Stan Blather. I will now read the news." Dale leaned   
  
back and put his arm around Foxy as she snuggled up against him. He   
  
knew she hadn't gotten much sleep before - Foxy was having troubling   
  
coming up with a sleep cycle which would have her up some of the same   
  
time as all the other Rangers, and also allow her to go out hunting at   
  
night. He turned his attention to the television, where it belonged.   
  
  
"Many things have happened since the last time I read the news,   
  
yesterday evening." Of course, Dale himself wasn't the best person to   
  
talk about keeping a steady sleep schedule. "For example, many people   
  
have slept. I slept." Dale wondered if Stan was going somewhere with   
  
this, or what. "And nearly everyone who has slept since the last time I   
  
read the news, yesterday evening, has been plagued with nightmares.   
  
Scientists are unable to explain this bizarre happening." Stan Blather   
  
stopped talking, briefly, to adjust his glasses. Though the anchor's   
  
face was, as always, blank and impassive, Dale almost saw a hint of   
  
fear behind his eyes.   
  
  
"We will now air a clip of a scientist explaining that scientists   
  
are unable to explain the tremendous number of nightmares and bad   
  
dreams which are plaguing the general population here in the city."   
  
Stan paused again, and his image was replaced by that of a bearded,   
  
middle-aged man in a green industrial chemist's coat, polishing his   
  
safety glasses with one hand.   
  
  
"Look," he said. "I'm a thermal chemist, and frankly I didn't get   
  
a whole lot of sleep last night. I don't know squat about the dreaming   
  
process; you should be over in the Pysch building --" He was abruptly   
  
cut off.   
  
  
"That was Doctor Edgar Kall, of NYU, on Nightmare '01." A   
  
flashy orange-and-black graphic briefly obscured Stan Blather's face.   
  
"I am Stan Blather, and we will be back, after these important   
  
messages." Cut to commercials.   
  
  
Dale frowned. He reached over with his free hand and rubbed   
  
Foxy's cheek. "Did you hear that?"   
  
  
"Yes. I mean, what did you hear?" Foxy asked.   
  
  
"The TV," Dale explained.   
  
  
"Oh, that." Foxglove didn't much like TV, to tell the truth. It   
  
was flat and there was far too much distortion on the sound. Most of   
  
the time she couldn't even hear the people's pulse rates or anything!   
  
How on earth could she be expected to understand what they were saying   
  
and why without such vital, basic information? "Bad dreams, like we all   
  
had."   
  
  
"Yeah... Hey, Chip!" Dale called into the kitchen, where Chip and   
  
Gadget were doing their usual little dance of sexual repression.   
  
  
"What is it?" Chip asked as he strolled into the living room,   
  
almost nonchalant.   
  
  
"I think you should see this news report I just saw," Dale said.   
  
  
Two hours later, the Rangers were debating the possible merits   
  
and flaws of taking "Nightmare '01," as Stan Blather's news team had   
  
christened it, on as a case. Actually, it was more Chip and Gadget   
  
debating the relative merits, as the other members of the team were   
  
variously occupied. Zipper was constitutionally unable to participate   
  
in a complex discussion without plenty of preparation, and Monterey   
  
Jack was cooking in the kitchen.   
  
  
Also Chip was quick on the uptake and almost always spotted a   
  
chance to spend a little time with Gadget. This was something, Dale   
  
knew, that wasn't going to change anytime soon. Unless, you know,   
  
something actually, you know, happened. Which wasn't likely, he was   
  
pretty sure.  
  
  
Dale, meanwhile, was being very quiet because Foxy had fallen   
  
asleep leaning up against him.   
  
  
  
"So, there you are, Foxglove. Out hunting, were you?" The   
  
Laundromat was dimly lit by flickering fluorescent bulbs which cast a   
  
strange light over the rows and rows of softly humming washing   
  
machines. The linoleum over the concrete slab of a floor was cracked   
  
and peeling, the vending machine in one corner which was intended to   
  
sell detergent was unlit and out of order. Clearly, the Laundromat had   
  
seen better days, as had the short woman in a conical hat who stood   
  
imperiously in its center, drawing the eldritch powers into herself.   
  
  
"Yes, Freddy. I mean, Winifred!" Foxglove winced as she realized   
  
her mistake.   
  
  
Winifred scowled at her from under the wide brim her of witchy   
  
hat, one she had bought from a five and dime the previous Halloween.   
  
She didn't yell, though, which as good. "That's better," was all she   
  
said.   
  
  
"I need you to collect a very special reagent for me, Foxglove,"   
  
the witch said. "Only a few more, and then I will be ready to begin my   
  
reign of nasty terror and meanness!"   
  
  
"I'm very happy for you," Foxglove said, just to be polite.   
  
  
"I need you to get for me the life's blood of a wonderful   
  
chipmunk!" Freddy cackled, producing a noise like a carbon monoxide   
  
alarm -- she'd gotten pretty good at it. "A chipmunk who is loving, and   
  
kind, and who is part of a team of powerful and nice people, except for   
  
the leader, who is also a chipmunk, and a little pushy!"   
  
  
"Life's blood?!" Foxglove shuddered. She didn't like blood.   
  
  
Freddy ignored her, and began waving her hands in a spell-  
  
casting-like manner. "A chipmunk who is as daring as he is handsome, a   
  
chipmunk with impeccable fashion sense and excellent taste in women,   
  
Foxglove! This is the beast whose blood you must bring me!"   
  
  
"I can't... I... I can't help you be mean and get blood for you!   
  
It's just too... too evil!" Foxglove knew as soon as she had said it   
  
that it was a mistake.   
  
  
Freddy suddenly seemed to tower over her. "Evil? Evil?! You call   
  
me evil, you who are the lowest of the low, you who must wait at my   
  
beck and call, you who have no friends, you who are unloved?!"   
  
  
"sorry," Foxglove whispered.   
  
  
"I see now that you're not really my friend, Foxglove! You don't   
  
care about me at all! You don't want me to succeed in my nasty plots...   
  
in fact, you want me to fail!"   
  
  
"It's not true!" Foxglove cried. "You're my only friend in the   
  
whole world, Winifred! I need you!"   
  
  
"And to think I trusted you, Foxglove! This is... the ultimate   
  
betrayal!" The witch glared down at her. "What hurts worse than the   
  
unkindness is the feeling of betrayal!" She pointed at Foxglove, and   
  
spoke a magic word. The washing machines all around them throbbed with   
  
power.   
  
  
"No! No!" Foxglove writhed and screamed as the horrible magical   
  
energies coursed through her. "No!"   
  
  
  
A bat's scream is something to... Well, not see. Hear. It's   
  
something to hear, exactly once. Dale leaped fully six inches straight   
  
up, hitting his head for the second time that morning. When he landed,   
  
Foxy was looking alert and panicky and darting her head from side to   
  
side in a way that just dared the universe to send something like that   
  
up against her again.   
  
  
"What on earth?" Gadget, followed quickly by Chip, emerged from   
  
the kitchen. "Foxglove, are you all right?"   
  
  
"I was just... I was just..." Slowly, Foxglove calmed down. It   
  
was an effort; her natural impulse was to bolt, and find someplace dark   
  
to hide in until everything was all right again.   
  
  
"You look like you've just seen a ghost," Chip said in a way that   
  
he probably thought was tactful.   
  
  
Dale frowned. No reason to get snippy, he told himself. Relax.   
  
"You okay, babe?" he asked Foxy.   
  
  
"Oh... yes..." Foxglove said. "Yes." She was so relieved she   
  
gave Dale another hug, which was easy because his arms were already   
  
around her.   
  
  
"Oh, well, you're fine, I guess," Gadget said. She smiled,   
  
brightly. "That's good."   
  
  
There was a long pause. Foxglove was still holding onto Dale.   
  
  
"I'll just go downstairs, then, okay?"   
  
  
Gadget waited, but no response was forthcoming.  
  
  
"Okay!" Gadget was hardly one to stand in the way of other   
  
people's happiness.  
  
  
"Eh, I'll go with you, Gadget. To... in case you need a spare   
  
hand..." Chip took a few steps in her direction, then stopped,   
  
disappointed, when he saw she wasn't pausing so he could catch up.  
  
  
"Oh, um, that's..." She was already halfway down the stairs.   
  
"That's not, um, really necessary Chip, but I -- thanks for, for the   
  
offer. Because I, I already made... I built a spare hand already, in   
  
case I need a..."   
  
  
"Monty! If anything comes up, you're in charge!" Chip called over   
  
his shoulder as he hurried downstairs, leaving Dale and Foxglove alone.   
  
  
  
This idyllic scene was interrupted, only a few minutes later, by   
  
a pounding on the door. Monty, by now well-satisfied with his culinary   
  
efforts, stepped out of the kitchen to answer it.   
  
  
"You've got to help me!!" screeched a small iguana, her   
  
possessions in a satchel, her coat yellow, her eyes dark and hollow, as   
  
she grabbed Monty around the waist. "Please, Monty!! Please, help   
  
me!!" she beseeched him, staring up at him in a way that might have   
  
been soulful, were she not shouting at the top of her lungs. She paused   
  
momentarily and glanced past Monty into the Tree. "Wow," the lizard   
  
muttered. "It's just like I pictured it!!" Then she turned her   
  
attention back to the mouse.   
  
  
  
"Er... 'ave we met?" Monterey Jack scratched his head and stalled   
  
as the rest of the Rangers quickly moved towards the door, eager to   
  
assist this strange stranger.   
  
  
"What?! O, clearly the horrible plague of nightmares which has   
  
stymied the best Human minds in the city has also affected your   
  
normally hypercompetent and powerful brain, Monty!! It's me, Xia!!" The   
  
tiny lizard stood to her full height -- almost to Monterey Jack's   
  
shoulder -- but continued to hold the big mouse around the waist. "O,   
  
you poor thing!!"   
  
  
"Calm down girlie... Xia," Monty said as he tried to wriggle out   
  
of her grasp. Unsuccessful, he resigned himself to supporting her, and   
  
patted her on the back. "There there," he said.  
  
  
"O, I knew you'd understand!!" Xia exclaimed. She stared up at   
  
Monty, her eyes distressingly large and her expression unpleasantly   
  
hungry.  
  
  
"Dale!" Monty hissed over his shoulder.  
  
  
"Hiya, Xia," he said, waving his hand to get her to turn her   
  
attention toward him and away from Monterey Jack's face. "Yeah, we've   
  
met. I'm Dale, remember?"   
  
  
"Remember?! How could I forget?! You're the chipmunk who landed   
  
the Space Plane!!" Xia finally released Monty, and turned to the   
  
chipmunk.  
  
  
"Well, Chip helped --" Dale began.   
  
  
"You mastered a psionically-controlled tank with under a minute   
  
of practice!! You're a living legend!!" she continued.   
  
  
"Aw, shucks..." Dale said, smiling despite himself.   
  
  
Foxy, standing next to Dale, leaned conspiratorially towards Xia.   
  
"But that's not the half of it! He saved me, and all his teammates from   
  
Freddy!"   
  
  
"Oh, Foxy, you helped, that time..."   
  
  
"And he applied what Zipper later called 'a single-minded   
  
dedication bordering on the disturbing' to finding me and Chip last   
  
month when we were lost! He is incredible." Foxy spoke the latter   
  
sentence with a finality which brooked no argument.   
  
  
"Ooh!! I hadn't heard about that last one..." Xia dove into the   
  
satchel at her side and removed a small notebook and a pencil stub.   
  
"Okay, so you, Foxglove the Rescue Ranger Trainee, and Chip, the Rescue   
  
Ranger Leader, were missing. And Dale, Chip's closest friend and   
  
your...?" Xia licked the end of the pencil with her narrow reptilian   
  
tongue.   
  
  
"Boyfriend," Foxy said, matter-of-factly. Dale looked at her and   
  
smiled.   
  
  
"Okay..." There was a brief pause as Xia wrote all this down.   
  
"Now, Dale, sir, was it just you and your assistant Zipper looking for   
  
these two, or did Gadget Hackwrench and Monty --"   
  
  
"Assistant?!" Zipper squeaked out. Xia ignored him.   
  
  
"Did they assist in this search and rescue effort?"   
  
  
"Uh, excuse me, uh, Xia," Monterey Jack said as he leaned over   
  
and plucked the pencil stub out of her hand to ensure her full   
  
attention, "But I was wonderin', uh, why you came ove' here..."   
  
  
"Oh, yeah, that! I'm sorry, it just slipped my mind." Xia   
  
cleared her throat, then shook her head as if to clear it. "You've got   
  
to help me!! I'm having horrible nightmares!! Terrible visions!! Only   
  
you, you bastions of all that is good, only you can save me!!"   
  
  
"Um..." Foxy stroked her chin with one wingtip. Xia's   
  
close proximity was beginning to pain her eardrums.  
  
  
"So, bad dream last night?" Dale guessed.   
  
  
"Yes," Xia agreed. "I mean, 'yes!!' And not just me -- the whole   
  
city is under siege!!"  
  
  
"Would you please stop doing that?" Foxy asked, wincing. "With   
  
the double exclamation points... it hurts my ears." Dale, Monty, and   
  
Zipper looked at her in confusion, then shrugged as Xia nodded.  
  
  
"Well, uh, irregardless, 'tain't really our kind o' case. After   
  
all, heh, it's jest a lotta people havin' bad dreams --"  
  
  
"Horrible dreams!" Dale interjected.  
  
  
"Nightmares!" Foxy agreed.  
  
  
"Well, irregardless o' 'ow bad these nightmares are, we can't...   
  
what is it, Zip ol' pal?" Monty stopped as Zipper suddenly began   
  
gesticulating wildly. The fly buzzed off to his room, then returned   
  
bearing a scrap of paper.  
  
  
"'Irregardless is not a word,'" Monty read. "Huh." He gave Zipper   
  
a hurt look.  
  
  
"So'ry, Mon'y," the fly said. It was a pet   
  
peeve of Zipper's.  
  
  
A pleading look was in Xia's eyes. "You've never failed! I just   
  
know you can take on this case! Please!" Eyes, nothing -- it was all   
  
over her body.  
  
  
"Well, uh, girlie --"  
  
  
"Xia."  
  
  
"Well, uh, Xia, the thing is, we wouldn't know where t'begin. I   
  
mean, this is hardly our tea..." Monty flailed about. Closer by, Dale,   
  
Foxglove, and Zipper were in various stages of shrugging helplessly.  
  
  
Xia looked up at him, her eyes the size of the emeralds he had   
  
saved from the clutches of Daria Klutchkoin, international spycatcher,   
  
back during the Jiminson Heist of '83... "Please," she repeated softly.  
  
  
"Okay," Monty said. It seemed like the easiest way out.   
  
  
The lizard brightened up immediately, and backed away from Monty,   
  
much to his relief.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
A short time later, Monterey Jack adjusted the flight path and   
  
congratulated himself on his quick thinking. Xia had, in fact, shut up   
  
once he'd told her to monitor the phone.  
  
  
"So where are we headed?" he called over his shoulder to the back   
  
seat.  
  
  
"You're in charge, Monty," Chip called back to him. "I'm tied up   
  
at the moment."  
  
  
"What?" Monty asked.  
  
  
"I'm busy," Chip said. "Gadget and I both... uh, we..."  
  
  
"We have to fidget at each other," Gadget supplied. "Keep up the   
  
tension, you know."  
  
  
"So it'll just be you, Zipper, Dale, and Foxglove," Chip   
  
explained. "We'll be back here making small talk and not- looking-at-  
  
each-other, if you need us."  
  
  
"But don't bother us unless it's important!" Gadget reminded him.  
  
  
"...right, no worries..." Monty shook his head. He hadn't   
  
realized Chip and Gadget were quite so open about their 'relationship.'  
  
Still, whatever worked. "So, Dale," he began as he glanced over at the   
  
seat next to him. "Dale? Dale?"  
  
  
Dale was half out of the Wing, leaning as far as he possibly   
  
could over the side, chatting with Foxglove as she flew alongside.   
  
Monty couldn't quite hear what they were saying over the noise of the   
  
engine, but did catch the phrase "back in time for the Simpsons."  
  
  
"Dale!" Monty shouted.  
  
  
Dale finally acknowledged him, turning away from Foxglove with a   
  
theatrical sigh. "Yes, Monty?" he asked. "I was talking to Foxglove."  
  
  
"Where do ya think we should go?" Monty asked him. He glanced   
  
around at the city below. "That buildin' there looks interestin'."   
  
The big mouse turned the Ranger Wing slightly, banking it until it was   
  
pointed directly at a big marble building which resembled a library, or   
  
museum, or possibly a bank. The entire structure glowed with an eerie   
  
green light, and was emitting screams at irregular intervals. Also, it   
  
was pulsing visibly, as if possessed of a monstrous heartbeat. "See   
  
those crazy-lookin' fellas pacing around in front?" he asked, pointing   
  
to the dozen slack-jawed men and women scattered around the front of   
  
the building. "From the way they're chantin 'Cthulhu fhtagn,' I'd say   
  
they're up ta somethin'."  
  
  
"Yeah, sure, whatever," Dale said. "Actually Foxy and I were   
  
talking about going out to catch some dinner, then getting back to the   
  
Tree early."  
  
  
"But... the nightmares, and..." Monty stuttered. Dale shrugged,   
  
as if to say 'Yes, nightmares are all terrible things and all that,   
  
sure, but I'd rather be making time with my sweet honeypot of a bat.'  
  
  
"Monty? Monty!" Dale tapped him on the side of the head, waking   
  
the big mouse with a start.  
  
  
"Thrash 'im! What? 'Ello? Yes?" Monterey Jack made a face.   
  
"Sorry, pally. I musta been daydreamin'."  
  
  
"You told us to get in the Ranger Wing, and we all did, and then   
  
we noticed you weren't there, and I came back in, and you were still   
  
standing..."  
  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Monty said. "I was jes thinkin'. Be with yas in a   
  
sec... Listen, uh, you're interested in dealin' with this case, ain't   
  
yas? You care, right?"  
  
  
Dale blinked, mulled it over, then nodded.  
  
  
"Right. I'll be along, then," the mouse said, nodding to   
  
himself.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
A short time later, Monterey Jack adjusted the flight path and   
  
congratulated himself on his quick thinking. The situation seemed   
  
oddly familiar, but then, he'd flown the Wing many times before.  
  
  
In the passenger seat, Dale wished he could fly under his own   
  
power, like Foxglove. The lizard who had squeezed in between him and   
  
Monty was seriously freaking him out.  
  
  
"Wow," she said for the umpteenth time, "I can't believe I'm   
  
really sitting in the Ranger Wing. The same Ranger Wing you used to fly   
  
to Tibet and save Chirp-Sing from the nasty sister person, the same   
  
  
Ranger Wing you rode in the night you guys met Foxglove, never dreaming   
  
she would eventually become one of your number, the same --"  
  
  
"Yeah, Xia, we know," Dale interrupted. "We were there."  
  
  
Xia ignored him. "The same bat now flying only a few feet from   
  
me! Wow!" She sighed happily and leaned back, enjoying the ride.  
  
  
Dale and Monty exchanged glances. Neither of them were quite sure   
  
just how the small lizard had ended up coming along on this mission,   
  
but then, they weren't really too sure where they were going, either.  
  
  
  
Gadget opened her eyes and hopped out of bed. A glance at the   
  
clock indicated she'd slept a half-hour longer than was normal, so with   
  
haste the mouse changed clothes and hurried towards the kitchen, hoping   
  
Chip hadn't already woken the rest of the team and forced them to go   
  
out looking for her, convinced she'd wandered off in the middle of the   
  
night and fallen down a hole or been carried off by a chicken man or   
  
kidnapped by a stranger in black or hypnotized by ultrasonic   
  
transmissions or anything. Somewhat unnerved by this line of thought,   
  
she was relieved to see Chip in the living room, standing pensively   
  
over some sturdy-looking of luggage made from tin peppermint boxes in a   
  
variety of sizes and brands.  
  
  
"Good morning, Chip!" Gadget said. She smiled at him, the way   
  
she did every morning. "What are you doing with those suitcases?"  
  
  
Chip looked up from his suitcases and glared at her in a manner  
  
Gadget found hateful and disturbing on multiple levels, and the muscles   
  
of her face tightened of their own accord. She was tempted to make a   
  
quick run to the kitchen and get him some coffee to see if that made   
  
him less cranky. But, she decided after 0.23 seconds of deliberation,   
  
that would be too familiar an act. So instead she just pressed ahead   
  
with the dialogue. "Are you taking a trip?"  
  
  
"No," Chip finally said. "I'm leaving the Rangers."  
  
  
Gadget sat down. She didn't bother to walk over to the sofa   
  
first, so she just landed on floor. "What?"  
  
  
"Well," Chip said in an angry and patronizing tone, as if this   
  
was not only something obvious to both of them, but something they'd   
  
discussed at length the night before. "Well, with Gary Stu here I'm   
  
really pretty much, what was the word, 'obsolete?' Or was it   
  
'redundant?' I mean, after all..." and Chip was plainly about to   
  
ramble on about trivialities which would have taken up too much time   
  
and this was something she wanted resolved as quickly as possible so   
  
she interrupted him.  
  
  
"Gary Stu?"  
  
  
"Yeah," Chip said with what could best be described as an ironic   
  
scoff. It was a noise which conveyed a great deal of information to   
  
Gadget about how Chip thought she knew Gary Stu and just what Chip's   
  
opinion on the matter of Gadget's knowing Gary Stu was. Gadget mulled   
  
things over for 0.31 seconds and decided this conversation would   
  
benefit from Gary Stu's participation, whoever he was (something else   
  
Gadget wanted to know). Of course, Gary Stu would be the world's   
  
living expert on who Gary Stu was (things tended to work out like that)   
  
so the thing to do was clearly fetch him.  
  
  
"Where is Gary Stu?" Gadget asked Chip. He scowled, and she was   
  
a little hurt by the way he seemed to willfully misinterpret her   
  
innocent question which was meant, after all, to do nothing more than   
  
expedite the process of making Chip not leave her. Leave the Rangers,  
  
Gadget corrected herself. That was what she meant: the Rangers.  
  
  
"He's in the kitchen," Chip said.  
  
  
"Don't go anywhere!" Gadget told him, confident now that she was   
  
making progress and soon enough the whole thing would be settled and   
  
this Gary Stu person (and all attendant bad feelings) would be out of   
  
her's and Chip's life. Tree. She'd meant to say Tree. She hurried   
  
into the kitchen.  
  
  
In the kitchen there was a mouse. Well, actually there were lots   
  
of things in the kitchen, most of them Monty's, since he was the one   
  
who cooked, but the mouse was the thing most likely to be Gary Stu. He  
  
was a little taller than Gadget, and wore a heavy black trench coat,   
  
even though it was a beautiful day outside. Under the trench coat,   
  
Gadget saw, he wore a black jumpsuit.  
  
  
"Gary Stu?" Gadget asked hesitantly. After all, it was possible   
  
that the stranger had simply broken into the Tree under cover of   
  
morning and was laying in wait in the kitchen for members of the team  
  
and had already captured the real Gary Stu.  
  
  
"Morning, Gajy," the mouse replied. His voice was oily. "That's   
  
no way to say hello. C'mon over here and give me some sugar."  
  
  
It was at this point that Gadget realized something, somewhere,   
  
had gone very wrong. She considered her options for 1.19 seconds   
  
before deciding to interpret Gary Stu's statement in the most favorable   
  
light possible, and give him another chance. "The sugar is in the   
  
drawer behind you," she said.  
  
  
"Oh, I don't think it is, sugarpie," Gary Stu said teasingly as   
  
he advanced on her.  
  
  
Gadget decided to move on to her second-choice option. "Chiiiip!"  
  
she shouted, and stepped backwards away from Gary Stu until she was   
  
standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, with   
  
Chip behind her.  
  
  
"What?" he asked shortly. Sadly, Chip was behind her in a   
  
literal sense only, not the metaphorical sense she'd been hoping for.  
  
  
Seeing as how Gary Stu was now only inches from her, his arms   
  
extended, Gadget decided that her best option was to explain the   
  
situation to Chip as completely as possible and trust that her having   
  
been acting only to removing the difficulty now between them would   
  
serve to eliminate the tension between the two of them which Gadget as   
  
yet didn't fully understand. "I woke up this morning like always and I  
  
come out to the living room and you're in the living room and you're   
  
mad at me and you're about to abandon me and it's because of someone   
  
named Gary Stu and so I go and see him and he's a wicked jerk and he  
  
keeps calling me Gajy I guess because he thinks it doesn't sound   
  
incredibly demeaning and insulting and he's wrong by the way but anyhow   
  
he's coming right at me and..."  
  
  
Chip made that scoffing sound again. "Look, tell someone who   
  
still cares."  
  
  
"Nuts!" Gadget cursed in exasperation, which caused both Chip and   
  
Gary Stu to start, inasmuch as neither of them had heard her swear   
  
before. "What is up with you, Chip?!"  
  
  
"Well, that's obvious, Gajy," Gary Stu said in a condescending   
  
tone. "Chip's upset because he got left holding the bag. But forget   
  
about him..."  
  
  
"No!" Gadget shouted. "No," she repeated forcefully, and waggled   
  
a finger angrily at Gary Stu. "Now tell me, what *exactly* is the   
  
problem here?"   
  
  
"Gajy, Gajy... It's obvious, after all -- obvious to me, I mean,   
  
I don't know how your limited, canonical, perceptions work," Gary Stu   
  
hedged. "I mean, Chip has been throwing himself at you steadily for,   
  
man, years now, and you've always chosen to ignore it, so clearly   
  
you've just been waiting for a Real Man to come along..."  
  
  
"Wait, wait, what are you saying? I didn't mean to..."  
  
  
Chip scowled. "Gadget, you've been just playing with..."  
  
  
"I wasn't trying to..."  
  
  
"Gadget, you've thrown away..."  
  
  
"I didn't realize..."  
  
  
"Gadget..."  
  
  
"Gadget!" She woke up with a start, and it took her a second to   
  
realize Chip was shaking her.  
  
  
"What?" she asked, hoping she was now wide awake. "Chip?"  
  
  
"You feel asleep," he told her. They were sitting in the back   
  
seat of the Ranger Wing. Gadget was a little surprised to realize she'd   
  
been snuggled up against Chip's side, in her sleep. "We've arrived," he   
  
added. Evidently Chip had held off on waking her for as long as he   
  
reasonably could.  
  
  
Gadget wondered where they'd arrived at, but there was something   
  
else more pressing she had to know. "Chip," she began as they climbed   
  
out of the vehicle, "do you know a Gary Stu?"  
  
  
Chip had to think about that one. "No," he said after a second,   
  
and looked at her for another second before adding, "why do you ask?"  
  
  
"Oh, no reason," she said, a little too quickly. "But are you   
  
sure? Gary Stu, two words? He's a mouse a little bigger than me, wears   
  
dark clothing, brownish fur?" She paused, then added "he's really not  
  
very nice to be around at all."  
  
  
Chip reconsidered, then shook his head again. "Who is he?" he   
  
asked. "How do you know him?"  
  
  
"Oh, I don't," Gadget responded. "I've never seen him, or met   
  
him, or had him described to me, or... anything, actually. Golly Monty,   
  
where are we?" she asked as they caught up with the rest of the group.   
  
It was big and marble and looked vaguely like a bank.   
  
  
"The Museum o' Pacific Island History," Monty responded. More   
  
precisely, they were standing on the roof of the Museum of Pacific   
  
Island History, looking down through a skylight into a laboratory or   
  
workshop of some kind.  
  
  
"Oh, okay," Gadget said. She turned back to Chip. "If you meet   
  
him, though, I think you warn me right away," she told him, and was   
  
immensely relieved when he slowly nodded, despite giving her a funny   
  
look.  
  
  
"Wait a second," Chip said, able to fully take in the situation   
  
now that Gadget was no longer talking to him. "Why are we at the Museum   
  
of Pacific Island History?"  
  
  
"Oh, that," Monty said. "Well, Chipper, I was flyin' the Ranger   
  
Wing, right, and I thinks to meself, what do we usually do when we got   
  
a case? Answer comes back, 'Monty, usually we go somewhere an' land.'   
  
So's I look around for somewhere we can land, and this buildin' jes   
  
leaps out at me."  
  
  
If Dale had done it, Chip would have bonked him. But Monty wasn't   
  
Dale, so he didn't. "You could have, I don't know, consulted the   
  
group?!"  
  
  
"Heh, well, Chipper, you did say I was in charge if somethin'   
  
came up," Monty answered with a grin.  
  
  
"Yeah, Chip!" Foxglove took the opportunity to interject   
  
eagerness and enthusiasm. "I heard you!"  
  
  
Chip was about to bawl them all out when he remembered Xia was   
  
still with the group. He glanced over and saw that she was, as he had   
  
feared, still taking notes. "We'll discuss this chain-of-command   
  
confusion later, okay? Now, the thing to do is get back in the..."  
  
  
Dale, who had been staring down through the skylight and ignoring   
  
the conversation behind him, suddenly piped up. "Hey, hey, check it   
  
out! Here comes somebody!"  
  
  
Over Chip's protests, the Rangers (and Xia) quickly huddled   
  
around the skylight and observed the scene below.  
  
  
  
The round little man in the ill-fitting suit cackled like a   
  
madman as he strode confidently into the workshop. "Fools! Idiots!" he   
  
cried. "They run about like chickens with their heads cut off! Ha, ha-  
  
ha!  
"They have no idea that it is I, Dr. Simon Moon-Morton, who have   
  
created this state of fear and loathing! Ha-ha! Soon the dreams will   
  
come more and more frequently, all thanks to you, my inanimate   
  
statuette from the South Pacific!"  
  
Dr. Moon-Morton turned to a foot-high stone carving sitting on   
  
one of the tables of the workshop. It appeared to be in the shape of a   
  
human with a squid for a head, and was nestled in strange contraption   
  
of wood and metal, which plugged into a wall socket.  
  
"Those fools on the expedition had no idea what you were, my   
  
darling inanimate object, but I knew! I knew who channeled the spirit   
  
of Great-Dreamer-Beneath, and that you possessed the power to drive   
  
sane men, women, dolphins (and any other intelligent species which   
  
exist but which human civilization remains blissfully unaware) mad mad   
  
mad!" He laughed some more at this point.  
  
"All this great power locked up in you, my completely helpless   
  
and fragile little object, but they didn't know what you were or how to   
  
unleash you! Only I, I who have studied the worldwide cult of the Great   
  
Dreamer, only I could unlock your secrets, hook you up to 220V   
  
alternating current, and use you to broadcast fear and nightmare   
  
madness in a fifty-mile radius!  
  
"No one but I, who was awarded a doctoral degree in Great Dreamer   
  
Studies by the Paranormal Anthropology department of D'Aubainne   
  
University, no one but I, who in his capacity as assistant curator-in-  
  
charge of statuary between seventeen and nine hundred pounds here at   
  
the Museum of Pacific Island History, no one but I, Doctor Simon Moon-  
  
Morton, could have carried out this tremendous achievement! And I owe   
  
it all to you, you helpless little inanimate object! Without your   
  
presence, all my plans would be for naught!  
  
"But soon, by this time tomorrow, a cascade effect will trigger   
  
endless waking nightmares all through the borough! Then, the city!   
  
Then, the greater tri-state area! Then, the whole of the original   
  
thirteen colonies! The time zone! The country! The continent! The   
  
hemisphere! The world! Then the Great Dreamer will awake and devour us   
  
all!" More insane cackling followed this particular revelation.  
  
"Now, my little key to the destruction of Earth, I will leave you   
  
alone and totally unguarded while I go across the street and buy a   
  
falafel. Toodles."  
  
Apparently satisfied with his monologue, Dr. Moon-Morton turned   
  
and left the workshop.  
  
  
  
"Did you hear that?!" Dale crowed.  
  
  
"I sure did, pally," Monty said. "We've got ta get down   
  
there and trash that statue!"  
  
  
"If you give me a second I bet I can rig something up. Well, not   
  
a second, more like five or ten minutes... well, ten minutes is   
  
probably more than enough time..." Gadget trailed off when she realized   
  
she needed to actually get to work. "If you need me I'll be   
  
cannibalizing the Ranger Wing for parts." She scampered back to the   
  
vehicle.  
  
  
"But... but..." Chip was left to protest, open-mouthed. "We just   
  
came here randomly," he said. "And I mean, the guy's a loon; do you   
  
really think he caused the nightmares supernaturally? And..."  
  
  
"Nothing's impossible, Chip," Gadget pointed out from over near   
  
the Wing.  
  
  
"Eh, okay, granted, but... guys?" Chip grabbed Monty by the   
  
lapels. "You just landed the Ranger Wing on a roof! You didn't know   
  
there was a reason to pick this particular roof, right?!"  
  
  
Monty decided against bothering to mention the throbbing museum   
  
in his dream, and instead became immodest. "Well, Chipper, I did think   
  
this roof was lookin' especially appealin'."  
  
  
Chip turned to Zipper, the muted voice of reason. "I'm right,   
  
aren't I? This is hopelessly improbable, right?"  
  
  
Zipper thought it over, and shrugged. "Maybe," he said.  
  
  
"No maybe about it... wait a second! I've got it!" Chip snapped   
  
his fingers. "This is a dream! I'm dreaming right now! That's why   
  
nothing makes sense! My nightmare world is one in which there is no   
  
logic or internal consistency, everything falls apart, the center   
  
cannot hold, there's no rhyme or reason... deductive reasoning is   
  
useless! Right," he said excitedly, "I've just got to wake myself   
  
up... I'll jump off the building, that should do it..."  
  
  
While everyone else stared at him, Chip broke from the group and   
  
ran past the Ranger Wing to the edge of the building. He was about to   
  
jump when he suddenly thought better of and turned around, running back   
  
the way he came.  
  
  
"Oh goody," Foxglove said. "I'd have hated to have to... oh my."   
  
She trailed off as Chip stopped at the Ranger Wing, grabbed Gadget, and   
  
kissed her passionately. He then dropped her (heedless of her giddy   
  
collapse onto the tarpaper roof) spun around on his heel and dashed   
  
back to the edge of the roof, which he dove off.  
  
  
"Darn it," Foxglove said as she leaped into the air and flew   
  
after him.  
  
  
Xia was scribbling furiously. "Does he do that often, gospodin?"   
  
she asked Dale, who was standing next to her, stunned.  
  
  
"Uh, uh, he, uh, no," Dale said. "No, not often. I wouldn't say   
  
he does that much, no."  
  
  
Chip was halfway down the building when he felt the sudden jerk   
  
of Foxglove grabbing his jacket with her feet. "I'm not dreaming, am   
  
I?" he asked her, having to shout over the whistling air. "This is   
  
real, isn't it?"  
  
  
Foxglove was busy trying to slow their descent enough so that   
  
Chip wouldn't be injured, but she was able to respond in the   
  
affirmative.  
  
  
"Darn," Chip said. "Oh, nuts!" he swore a half-second   
  
later. "I just kissed Gadget!"  
  
  
"Well..." Foxglove offered between grunts, "she helped... once   
  
you started..."  
  
  
  
Monterey Jack, meanwhile, had run up to Gadget and helped her up   
  
from the heap she had landed in after Chip had roughly thrown her down.   
  
"You all right, Gadget love?" he asked her, concerned for her mental,   
  
physical, and emotional well-being.  
  
  
"Oh, golly, that, he, wow, I..." Gadget had a dreamy expression   
  
on her face. It took her a few seconds to regain her composure. "Wow,   
  
he, that, golly, oh... Oh, I'm, I'm okay. I'm okay," she said as much   
  
to herself as Monty. "Golly."  
  
  
"Well, I just figured, if I'm in a dream, I may as well..." Chip   
  
was saying to Foxglove as they made their way back to the skylight. He   
  
quieted down once they were in earshot of the rest of the group.  
  
  
"Okay, then," Dale said once they were all back together, and   
  
clapped his hands together to indicate the group was Moving On.  
  
  
"Are we not gonna to talk about..." Foxglove noticed Gadget and   
  
Chip were both beet red and appeared to be completely preoccupied with   
  
adjusting their lapels and hats and dusting themselves off and stuff   
  
and definitely not looking at each other. "I guess we're not," she said   
  
to Zipper, who shrugged in a manner Foxglove correctly interpreted as   
  
expressing a general weariness with regards to the sexual frustrations   
  
of chordates.  
  
  
Luckily, Gadget had realized she was going to want to cut glass   
  
that day, so getting through the skylight was no problem. Getting down   
  
was nearly as simple. Since they'd left in such a hurry to placate Xia,   
  
the Ranger Wing hadn't been loaded with the pencil-and-twine-and-paper-  
  
clip grappling equipment the Rangers normally used. However, the Wing   
  
was fully equipped with a rear-mounted underbelly suction-cup launcher,   
  
so all they had to do was point it down to the floor of the workshop   
  
below, fire, and then slide down the line. They came down one at a   
  
time: Chip, Monty, Gadget, Dale, and then Xia, who had failed to listen   
  
when she was told to wait up on the roof.   
  
  
"This is so great!!" Xia chortled as she slid easily down the   
  
twine.  
  
  
"Xia," Foxglove reminded her.  
  
  
"Sorry!! I mean, sorry," the lizard said. Her gaze darted about,   
  
and she bounced up and down eagerly. "What are we going to do now?"  
  
  
"You're going to stand here," Chip told her.  
  
  
"While we smash Dr. Moon-Morton's Evil Magic Statue that's giving   
  
everyone nightmares," Dale added.  
  
  
"How are we gonna do that?" Foxglove asked him. Dale answered her   
  
by turning to Gadget.  
  
  
"No problem," she said confidently, and cracked her knuckles.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
"You see, Xia," Gadget said, "what we're going to do is   
  
weaken the statue until the force of knocking it off the table is   
  
sufficient to break it."  
  
  
"...sufficient to break it..." the iguana muttered as she wrote   
  
that down.  
  
  
"While Foxglove listens for Dr. Moon-Morton to come back with his   
  
falafel, Chip and Dale and Monty -- oh, and Zipper -- are going to   
  
drill a few holes in the Evil Magic Statue using the drill I built."  
  
  
"...drill you built..."  
  
  
"Then," Gadget concluded, "then we just push it off, it breaks,   
  
and we leave."  
  
  
"Easier said than done," Monty grunted from high above. He was   
  
running on a treadmill made out of a large roll of duct tape, which was   
  
connected (via a complex web of bits of tape, paper clips, brushes, and   
  
other extremely miscellaneous bits of material scavenged from around   
  
the workshop) to a small drill bit. The bit was spinning madly, thanks   
  
to the remarkable and mathematically dubious force multiplier which was   
  
Gadget's sophisticated drill assembly, but it wasn't digging into the   
  
stone, despite the best efforts of Chip, Dale, and Zipper, who were   
  
arranged around the drill, trying to force it into the nape of the Evil   
  
Magic Statue's neck. It made a whirring sound.  
  
  
"So," Xia said after a minute or two of this. She and Gadget were   
  
watching from the floor.  
  
  
"Give it some time, huh?" Gadget said. "Monty just needs to get   
  
into rhythm..."  
  
  
"Oh, no, I'm sure it's going to work," Xia reassured her. "I was   
  
just going to ask if all your cases were usually this easily resolved."  
  
  
"Well, golly, I don't know," Gadget considered the question. "I   
  
guess usually there's about one more complication of some kind, which   
  
we have to deal with."  
  
  
"Like Foxglove disappearing?"  
  
  
"Mmm, yeah." Gadget nodded. "Like Foxglove disappearing, I could   
  
see that."  
  
  
"Foxglove's disappeared!!" Xia suddenly told her.  
  
  
"What?!"  
  
  
"No, I'm only kidding. Not really," Xia said. "I was just trying   
  
to, you know, lighten the mood. So what's up with you and Chip, then?"  
  
  
"What?!"  
  
  
Xia just giggled and scribbled something down.  
  
  
On the table above them, Dale suddenly cheered triumphantly.   
  
Presumably the drill had caught.  
  
  
"See? Just a bit longer now," Gadget said. "Unless the Evil Magic   
  
Statue turns out to be harder than the masonry bit and starts   
  
overheating due to friction and something pops, everything will be   
  
fine. No problem."  
  
  
There a sudden popping sound up above and a shower of sparks,   
  
which was followed by Monty flying off the table and landing in the   
  
sink in the counter against the far wall (which sink, luckily for him,   
  
was filled with water). Chip and Dale scampered down from the table,   
  
across the room, and up to the sink, all on all fours. They made little   
  
ouch-ouch noises at they went. Then they stuck their slightly singed   
  
hands into the soapy water and sighed in eerie syncopation.  
  
  
"Nuts," Gadget cursed, which caused Xia to start in surprise.   
  
"We'll have to try the other plan."  
  
  
"What's the other plan?" Xia asked.  
  
  
"I don't think we have another plan," Gadget admitted.  
  
  
"Guys! Guys! Short round man armed with falafel coming!" Foxglove   
  
called from her post near the doorway.  
  
  
"Eep!" Xia jumped an inch in the air, startled. She began to run   
  
around in a tiny circle, squealing, until Gadget grabbed her and pulled   
  
her onto the suction-cup still attached to the floor. The mouse   
  
released the catch and the suction-cup reeled back into the Ranger   
  
Wing, pulling its two passengers along. Foxglove flew after them.  
  
  
Chip, Dale, and Monterey Jack (who had by this point swam out of   
  
the sink and was merely soaking wet), lacking this option, instead   
  
chose to hide under three conveniently-placed sponges. Zipper buzzed   
  
nonchalantly around the sink as if he'd been born there.  
  
  
Dr. Simon Moon-Morton strode into the workshop, cursing the Elder   
  
Gods of cuisine. "They didn't have any hot sauce, inanimate object!" he   
  
shouted at the Evil Magic Statue. "Why must they all be so very   
  
stupid?! How can an evil genius like myself enjoy a falafel without hot   
  
sauce?! What's all this junk doing here?!" Moon-Morton prematurely   
  
ended his rant when he noticed the pile of debris that had once been   
  
Gadget's drill assembly. "Are you lonely, my sweet little nightmare-  
  
inducing statue of Dread Cthulhu Who Lies Dreaming in His Tomb at   
  
R'lyeh? Do you feel you need to bring other helpless and totally   
  
defenseless inanimate objects close to you, so you will have friends?"  
  
  
Moon-Morton leaned in close and listened, but the Evil Magic   
  
Statue remained silent.  
  
  
"Fine, then. Be that way, see if I care," he told it, and began   
  
to eat his falafel.  
  
  
From his hiding place behind a sponge, Monterey Jack sighed. It   
  
was the crazy ones that bothered him most.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
"Psst! Dale!" Chip hissed in the direction of the next sponge   
  
over. Psst!"  
  
  
"What?" Dale called loudly.  
  
  
Chip shushed him furiously. "Keep quiet!" he whispered. "And tell   
  
Monty to get comfy, because we're going to be waiting for a while!"  
  
  
Dale rolled his eyes, but decided not to remind Chip that he   
  
couldn't both be quiet and communicate with Monty. "Okay," he whispered   
  
back.  
  
  
"Zipper!" Chip tried to get the fly's attention, but he was too   
  
far away, over on the other side of the sink. Then Chip remembered   
  
Foxglove was with Gadget and Xia.  
  
  
"Foxglove," Chip murmured. "Tell Gadget what we're going   
  
to do is, we're just going to wait where we are until Moon-Morton goes   
  
home for the day. Then we'll have plenty of time to get rid of the   
  
statue."  
  
  
"Right," Foxglove said brightly, then realized Chip was way too   
  
far away to hear her. So instead she turned to Gadget (and Xia, who was   
  
still standing next to Gadget) and relayed Chip's instructions.  
  
  
"In the meantime, I'll work on coming up with the other plan,"   
  
Gadget said.  
  
  
"Can I help?" asked Foxglove and Xia simultaneously. There was  
  
a not unpleasing chorus effect as their voices synchronized.  
  
  
"Oh no you don't!" Foxglove suddenly cried, pointing accusingly   
  
at Xia.  
  
  
"What, I -"  
  
  
"Hey!" Foxglove was familiar with the effects of speaking in   
  
unison and wanted none of it.  
  
  
"I just -"  
  
  
"Hey!"  
  
  
"Yes, you can both help," Gadget said, to distract them. "  
  
"Foxglove, you keep a close eye on Dr. Moon-Morton and warn us if he   
  
does anything besides talk to himself, or pace around, or laugh at   
  
nothing in particular, or talk to the statue, or listen to the radio,   
  
or read a book, or... you get the idea."  
  
  
"Can do!" Foxglove replied, always ready to assist.  
  
  
"What can I do, Gadget? Ma'am?" Xia asked, suddenly full of   
  
courtesy.  
  
  
"You," Gadget said, "you can... um..." Xia definitely needed   
  
something to keep her occupied. Gadget smiled as an idea came. "You   
  
can hold this. Hold on just a second," she said over her shoulder as he   
  
hopped into the back of the Ranger Wing and pulled out a suction-cup   
  
crossbow. "Hold this suction-cup crossbow, don't fire it or load it,"   
  
she warned. "But hold it ready in case I need it."  
  
  
"Hold it ready in case you need it?" Xia repeated as she accepted   
  
the crossbow from Gadget and began assuming a variety of action poses.  
  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
"If you need it, does that mean I get to fire it?"  
  
  
"On second thought," Gadget said, as she took the crossbow back   
  
from Xia, "maybe you should hold the glass cutter, instead."  
  
  
"Does it shoot suction cups?" Xia asked.  
  
  
"Nope," Gadget answered, and smiled like the sun.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
"What we'll do... hold on," she called to Chip as she slid down   
  
the line. After what had seemed like an eternity, Moon-Morton had   
  
finally left. "What we'll do is tie the statue to this piece of twine,   
  
and fly off with it in the Wing!"  
  
  
"Will it lift something that heavy?" Chip asked, intrigued by the   
  
notion.  
  
  
"Almost certainly!" Gadget replied. "I don't know exactly how   
  
heavy the statue is, but I think so. For a while, at least. Long   
  
enough."  
  
  
"And what we will do with it, then?" Chip asked her.  
  
  
"We fly it up high, and then let it drop to the ground... and it   
  
shatters on impact!" Gadget beamed, clearly very pleased with herself.  
  
  
"How high do we have to get?"  
  
  
"I did the math, while we were waiting for Moon-Morton to leave,   
  
and the figure I've come up with is 'very high.'"  
  
  
"We can do that?" Chip stepped in, very close to her now.  
  
  
"Yes," she answered breathlessly, her eyes wide and excited.  
  
  
"You're brilliant... I could kiss you," Chip murmured. He   
  
inhaled, intoxicated with the twin scents of healthy young mouse and   
  
machine oil.  
  
  
Gadget gasped, and quickly stepped back, away from him. Her face   
  
was livid with shock and rage.  
  
  
From behind, Shadow grabbed Chip roughly at the shoulders and   
  
spun him around. "Are you bothering Gadget?" he asked, eyes wild.  
  
  
"I, I, I," Chip stammered helplessly as Gadget regained   
  
sufficient composure to punch him repeatedly, in the kidneys.  
  
  
Chip woke in a cold sweat, feeling clammy and dehydrated. He   
  
realized he didn't know anyone named Shadow, and was filled with so   
  
much relief he forgot where he was for a few seconds. He'd fallen   
  
asleep, leaning against the sponge. It was dark, which meant that not   
  
only had the sun gone down, but Moon-Morton had either left or just   
  
turned off the lights so he could sit around in the dark.   
  
  
"Dale?" Chip called experimentally.  
  
  
There was a shuffling from off to one side, where the sponge Dale   
  
had been hiding behind was. "...yes?" Dale called back.  
  
  
"Where's Foxglove?"  
  
  
"I'm right here, Chip," Foxglove called from, Chip strongly   
  
suspected, right next to Dale. He sighed.  
  
  
"Moon-Morton's gone for the day, I'm guessing, then?" he asked,   
  
icily.  
  
  
"Oh, sure," Dale answered. "About twenty minutes ago..."  
  
  
"And you, what, decided...?"  
  
  
"Well, Foxglove heard that you'd fallen asleep, and..." Chip   
  
realized that with Moon-Morton gone, there was no reason to continue to   
  
hide behind the sponges. He got up and walked over to Dale & Foxglove.  
  
  
"...and you didn't want to wake me, what with me being in the   
  
same room as the nightmare-inducing magic statue?" he asked them.  
  
  
"Well, of course it sounds stupid when you say it..." Dale said,   
  
and sighed.  
  
  
"Foxglove, go get Gadget, okay?" Chip said. "I came up with   
  
an idea for getting rid of the statue I want to run past her."  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
"So pretend I'm an idiot," Dale said. "Total idiot."  
  
  
Monty nodded. "Not hard," he said, and winked so Dale would know   
  
he was kidding.  
  
  
"Why are we dismantling the Ranger Wing?" Dale asked.  
  
  
"Chipper 'ad this lift-and-smash idea 'e told Gadget," Monty   
  
began. "And she said the Ranger Wing couldn't generate enough lift ta   
  
get the statue up 'igh enough that it'd 'ave enough time fallin' ta   
  
accelerate ta a velocity sufficient ta translate on impact ta enough   
  
kinetic energy ta shatter the thing, and..."  
  
  
"Wait a second," Dale said, recalling his nightmare of the night   
  
before. "Does this relate to p equaling m times v and g being nine   
  
point eight meters per second squared?"  
  
  
"I believe she said thirty-two feet per second per second, but   
  
yeah," Monty replied.  
  
  
"Just checking," Dale said. "I'm an idiot, don't forget. Keep   
  
going."  
  
  
"But she could use some o' the systems from the Wing ta build a   
  
simple little two-stage rocket that'd do the trick. So, we're takin'   
  
the Wing apart. Gadget builds rocket, rocket launches, statue flies up   
  
in air, statue falls, statue breaks, we walk 'ome."  
  
  
"So this is going to work, then?" Xia asked. "I don't mean to   
  
interrupt, Monterey Jack, sir, but I just wanted to get your expert   
  
opinion on this plan."  
  
  
"I reckon it'll work fine, girlie," Monty replied.  
  
  
"Xia," Xia said automatically.  
  
  
"I reckon it'll work fine, Xia."  
  
  
"Is this similar to any other plans you've utilized in your long   
  
and distinguished adventuring career?" Xia asked. Dale guessed from   
  
her tone that she was hoping Monty would tell her a story.  
  
  
"No," Monterey Jack told her, despite the way this current   
  
incident reminded him of his escape from Cat Island in '86. He found   
  
the way she listened intently to his stories disquieting.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
In a remarkably short time, as usual, Gadget's latest creation   
  
was complete. The Ranger Wing was a shambles: nothing left of it but   
  
seats, suction-cup gun, and part of a bleach bottle. But the brand new   
  
Ranger Ordnance Disposal Rocket (abbreviated RODR; suitable for   
  
disposing of land mines, time bombs, and Evil Magic Statues, depending   
  
on whether it was pointed to land in the ocean or on land) was ready to   
  
launch. A gleaming tube of polished steel extracted from the core of   
  
the Ranger Wing was filled to bursting with enough vinegar and baking   
  
soda to blow up a disused wooden shack, and it even had an electric   
  
starter. Several loops of cord ran from the base of the RODR to around   
  
the neck of the Evil Magic Statue, and back again.  
  
  
Chip, Dale, Foxglove, Monty, Zipper, and Gadget were crouched   
  
behind the protective barricade Chip and Foxglove had built out of   
  
sponges and tape. Xia was sitting on top of the barricade, having used   
  
up all her common sense for the day.  
  
  
"Three... two... one... ignition!" Gadget cried, and pushed the   
  
button which earlier that day had started the Ranger Wing, before it   
  
had been moved to Gadget's new Ranger Ordnance Disposal Rocket Remote   
  
Control, or "RODRRC."  
  
  
"Ooh, pretty," Xia said as the RODR lurched into the air. Hearing   
  
this, Foxglove and Dale stuck their heads up over the barricade. It   
  
was, in fact, moderately pretty. The RODR rose into the air, lifting   
  
the Evil Magic Statue up out of its electric cradle, and flew off into   
  
the clouds.  
  
  
"Wow," Chip said. "Did it work?"  
  
  
"I think it did!" Gadget said. "Worked like a charm!"  
  
  
"Or like a dream," Chip muttered. He looked at Gadget, scanning   
  
her for evidence of unreality, hostility, or friends named Shadow.  
  
  
Gadget looked back at Chip, equally intent on detecting any   
  
evidence of the possibility of his ever leaving her. Then both of them   
  
realized what they were doing must look like and started looking at the   
  
floor.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
"About that, eh, incident on the roof..." Chip rubbed his temples   
  
with one hand.  
  
  
"Oh, that, well, golly..." Gadget fought to keep the dreamy   
  
expression off her face. They were finally back at the Tree, having   
  
escorted Xia back to Lake Haha to make sure she didn't come back to   
  
headquarters with them. Everyone else had either gone to bed or was out   
  
flying around catching bugs with sonar and eating them.  
  
  
"I just wanted to, eh, I guess, apologize... I mean, I..."  
  
  
"Oh, golly, well, that..."  
  
  
"I thought I was in a dream, I mean, but that's no excuse for..."  
  
  
"Golly, well, oh, that..." Gadget tried to think of something   
  
more appropriate to say. "Well, oh, that. Golly, I think we should..."  
  
  
"Yeah, I was thinking..."  
  
  
"Let's, um, I mean..."  
  
  
"If we, eh, I don't know, but..."  
  
  
"Let's not talk about it," Gadget suddenly said, very quickly.  
  
  
"Yes, let's not," Chip agreed instantly. "Pretend it didn't   
  
happen."  
  
  
"I think that's a good idea," Gadget agreed.  
  
  
"Best thing to do," Chip agreed. He was speaking almost as   
  
rapidly as she was. "But I did want to..."  
  
  
"That, uh... 'oh, well,'" Gadget said helplessly, grinned like a   
  
helpless idiot, and shrugged.  
  
  
"Right!" Chip exclaimed. "I'll see you tomorrow at   
  
breakfast, then?"  
  
  
"Definitely!"  
  
  
There was a dangerous pause, and then they staggered off to their   
  
extremely separate beds.  
  
  
THE END? YES, I THINK SO.  
  
(Shadow appears courtesy the unsinkable Julie Bihn. Widget appears   
courtesy the ineffable John Nowak. D'Aubainne University was created by   
either the justifiably revered Jonathan Tweet or the severely   
underrated Robin Laws, and is referred to without permission. The   
dreaded Cthulhu, who dreams and is dead in His tomb at R'yleh, was   
created by the late H.P. Lovecraft, regardless of what some people   
would have you believe. I choose not to claim any copyright I might   
have on this text, since I didn't create the Rescue Rangers, either.   
If you think you can somehow make money off it, feel free. Gadget's   
dream sequence inspired by a comment made by the unsinkable Julie Bihn.   
Shouts out to the affable Matt Plotecher.) 


End file.
